


Same Old Story

by AceQueenKing



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Gen, Swearing, during early S2, energy vampire feeding frenzy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:54:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28295613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: Guillermo is panicked about the vampires finding out he's protecting them from the council. Colin helps...sorta. In his own way.
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz & Colin Robinson, Nandor the Relentless & Colin Robinson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Same Old Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brutti_ma_buoni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brutti_ma_buoni/gifts).



There were three dead vampires in the garden. Guillermo tried to calm himself; he breathed, his breath coming fast and, even to his own ears, _wheezy_. The tape that he'd been listening to at bedtime to create confidence while he was sleeping had said deep breaths helped. Right. Deep breaths. He listened to the sound of his own voice, rattling; he popped an espresso bean covered in chocolate out of habit, trying to concentrate for one sweet precious moment. Be calm, the tape had said. Imagine a sea lapping at your ankles. Guillermo did, but felt only as if he were drowning, the freezing prick of discomfort on his skin proving how stupid he had been to trust a 99 cent confidence-builder tape would give him any helpful advice at all, because at the time he'd thought maybe he was not stressed enough but now having buried seven vampires within a week and now three more—well, Guillermo was _pretty fucking sure_ he was _fucking stressed_. 

He stood up, ran a hand through his hair, which was still slick with sweat. Oh, god. Nandor was going to come in any moment and see him, wasn't he; going to come in, and see Guillermo, and see his sweaty hair and his—he looked down.

His sweater covered in vampire gore, _fuck_. And Nandor's bedtime was about—he glanced at his watch — thirty seconds away. He cursed under his breath, first in English, and then in Spanish for extra emphasis. Fuck! He'd only gone out to the garden to make sure the werewolves weren't out there again— 

_"Guillermo?"_ A voice came; he froze. Fuck fuck fuck, this was it, this was it; he reached into his bag, pulled out one of the garden stakes that he had happened to grab and carry around, because that was a normal thing he did now. "Whatcha doing there?"

He turned, blade hidden in his sleeve. "Nothing." 

It was Colin. He didn't relax. Colin was a boring guy, and probably the only person he had a chance of overtaking in a popularity contest in the household, not that anyone would actually run a popularity contest, or, if they did, would allow either of them to really compete in it. It would come down to Nadja being angry that Laslo had voted for himself, and not for her, and Nandor pouting as master always did when people failed to acknowledge his handsomeness. But none of that mattered right now; he kept his back turned but heard Colin approach him, his footsteps heavy.

"That uh, doesn't look like nothing." Colin said this as Colin said everything; a sort of tone that Guillermo referred to as _Beige-y_. He didn't know how energy vampires worked, but of all the house members, Colin was one that he thought might least notice that he was sitting in the mudroom, soaked in blood, with a stake half-hidden up his sleeve. Usually he was off to work by now. But instead of that, he was coming closer, and there was nowhere that Guillermo could go. He refused to turn around.

Colin took another step toward him. Guillermo took a step toward the wall, awkwardly touching it with his vampire gore. That would leave a mark he’d have to clean; fuck. He winced. Guillermo wasn't sure how long Colin had lived in the house—as long as he had, at least, and even if he was the most recent vampire that probably meant he was from, like, 1950, not like 865 or 1650 or whatever year Nandor and Nadja and Laslo had been made into vampires. Whenever that was. Didn't matter.

Colin touched his hand. It felt cold. He felt Colin pull the stake out with a gentle but strong tug. He winced. Shit. Shit shit shit shit. _Mierda_. He was pretty sure that great great great great grandfather Van Hellsing wouldn't have been caught like this, but he didn't even know how to swear in Dutch, let alone any advanced tricks that great great great great great grandfather Van Hellsing _might_ have used to get out of an uncomfortable situation like a roommate who was a vampire discovering that he had the DNA of a legendary vampire hunter or maybe it was luck, just luck, and now that Guillermo had gotten truly overconfident, and now he was at the end of his rope, and now he was going to be put into a coma by an energy vampire or whatever it was they did besides get stiffies at local municipality meetings—

"This is a, uh, Garden Center All-Purposes Wood Stake, right?" Colin flipped it around in his hands, and Guillermo glanced toward him: he could feel the blood leaving his cheeks.

"Yeah these are, I remember these, used to have them in the old catalog, back at the old Home Depot. I ever tell you about that?" Colin chuckled. "What a busy job. You had your ball peen hammers, your stork beak pliers, your dogleg reamers. And of course, there were the old stubby nail eaters. You ever needed a stubby nail eater?" He chuckled, twisting the stake in his fingers. "Course these, there's always a lot of varieties. You've got your balsam, you know, real cheap, big seller, little bit rubbish." Guillermo's eyes felt tired, and he rubbed at his eyes.

"Course then you got the next weight up, you got your cedar. Reaaaaalll good for outdoor uses, which heh, is what these beauties are mostly for. And moths!" Guillermo felt the irresistible urge to yawn, and couldn't resist closing his eyes. "And hah, man, you can take care of moths with these guys two ways, you know? A little stab, or you know — Guillermo, Hey, Guillermo—" Guillermo made a noise that might have been _mmm_. Words suddenly seemed to be less important, and he knew he had something he'd been stressed about, but that too was far away. "Well, you know, moths, they don't like cedar, that's why they made trunks for trousseau — you ever seen a trousseau?"

There was not a force in the world that could stop Guillermo from putting his head on the wall. "And then, of course, there's your pines..." Colin was going on, but his voice sounded far away, and Guillermo went finally, blessedly boneless, fading away into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Ah, works every time, the old hardware-store-story," Colin said; he was not entirely sure who he was talking to — he couldn't see the cameramen, but, well, old habits died hard. Heh, died hard. That was a good debate at the old office —maybe he'd bring that up for the holiday party this year, see if Arnie would possibly punch Dave for insisting on it being a Christmas movie. It had gotten close last year.

Guillermo lolled backward, then fell in one surprisingly athletic stumble. Colin stared at him for a long moment, siphoning a last bit of energy as Guillermo shifted in his sleep. Looked a bit bloody but eh, he'd live.

The door behind Guillermo opened; Nandor poked his head in, then recoiled.

"What is - what is this, Colin Robinson?" He looked down, saw Guillermo laying upon the floor. Guillermo's foot brushed against the door; Nandor stepped over it in one stride. "Is this you feeding on my familiar?"

"Oh, you ought to have felt the energy in him. Kid was giving off some _real_ distress." He grinned, pleased to have siphoned it. He'd be talking about this anecdote at work for weeks; always nice when a feeding resulted in more feeding opportunities. He'd just tell people Guillermo was anemic or something. Work in some surprising blood disorder anxieties, that always got a room spinning.

"No, this is not okay!" Nandor balked. "It is almost sunlight! Now who will be putting me to bed? I can hardly close the coffin myself, and you've sent my familiar off to dreamland!"

There was a long pause as they both looked down at Guillermo. "He'll wake up."

"In _hours_." Nandor threw his hands out. "I cannot believe this, Colin Robinson. It is, how do you say? _Not cool._ "

Colin stared at Nandor and debated for one long moment what to do; Nandor stared at him, seeking answers, and within moments, the perfect idea came to him.

"I could put you to bed, you know." Nandor scoffed, and he held out a hand. "You know. Our secret. Just to make it right."

"You wouldn't tell Nadja and Laslo?" Nandor asked. He shook his head and smiled.

"Mum's the word."

Nandor looked down at Guillermo, still unconscious. "And the blood is just — he's okay, right?"

"Pretty much." Was he bleeding when he came in? Colin didn't think so, but he didn't seem too badly off. Eh. "Now, let's get you to bed." Nandor turned and went back to his room; Colin waited for him to move into his coffin before he unleashed the next part of his plan.

"Say, Nandor, did I ever tell you about the stakes we used to sell at Home Depot?"

"I'm trying to sleep!" Nandor hissed, but the hiss was already a bit too soft, and Colin grinned: time for dessert.

"Well, we used to have several varieties."

"Please, no."

"You got your balsams—" He sniffed. "Garbage, that, you know, you tie a tarp to it, tarp goes flying across the lawn—"

"This is not cool, Colin Robinson!" Nandor said.

"One time we uh, we had a lady trying to return one of them balsam ones, said she tried to make an airplane out of them. Like shave'em down and make tiny pieces. That was a laugh riot, we laughed about that in the supervisor’s room a long time."

"Colin—" Nandor's voice sounded tired; he caught the muffled bit of a yawn at the end.

"And then you know there's the cedars, and those are a lot better. Still a light wood but they're _really_ a _moth-full_. Get it? Mothfull? 'Cuz they kill moths. _And_ it is a mouthful, too, because the sound of it is totally different in other languages. You know what they call Cedars in Spain?" He waited for a long moment; there was no response from the coffin. He tapped on it; no protest. " _Cedro_ , with a - with an S sound. Except in Barcelona, those mad lads say it with a _th_. Wild, right?"

No answer.

Colin tapped the casket and grinned.

"Night night," he said, and hummed; it was time to go to work, and for once Colin was leaving feeling pleasantly full. He stared at Guillermo as he saw him on the ground, still passed out; delicately, he moved him a bit so he was slouched against the wall. Best to do that so Laslo couldn't complain about tripping over him if went out to trim his bushes in the early evening before Colin got back. It was the office Christmas party tonight after all.

"Sweet dreams, kid," he said, task done, and went on his way. It was time for a mundane 9 to 5 at the office, and Colin Robinson couldn't wait.


End file.
